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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487301">Instagram Drabble Collection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiurnalDays/pseuds/DiurnalDays'>DiurnalDays</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble Collection, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:09:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiurnalDays/pseuds/DiurnalDays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles inspired by prompts sent to me on Instagram. Will update when I write more drabbles as warm-ups.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>America/England (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Punk!Arthur and Jock!Alfred</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here's the original text of the Instagram story that I derived these prompts from. Each drabble will be titled with the related prompt. I am not currently open to drabble requests; I'm still sitting on a bunch of prompts that I want to write drabbles for.<br/>"Please send me writing prompts + pairings/characters so that I can warm up with some 200-300 word drabbles!<br/>Rules of thumb:<br/>No NSFW or anything that would require content warnings (keep it T for Teen at most)<br/>I can write most of the characters I’ve drawn on this account, but I prefer characters I’ve written about in the past (you can check my Ao3 for reference)<br/>I’ll turn down prompts if I’m uncomfortable with them or don’t know how to write them well<br/>Similarly, I’ll turn down pairings/characters if I’m unfamiliar with how to write them<br/>I’ll post a few finished drabbles to my story, so send them in!"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arthur folded his arms over each other, leaning against the wall and trying not to look out of place next to a football state championship display case -- though, of course, his leather jacket, piercings, and shredded clothing gave him away as the reclusive punk kid who hung out a lot with the star quarterback. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A gaggle of muscular half-dressed teenage boys burst out of the boys’ locker room in a sudden onslaught of sweat, deodorant, and raucous laughter. When Alfred emerged behind them, his face immediately lit up as soon as he saw Arthur, making a beeline across the hallway to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Artie!” Alfred said, waving at him with sinfully exposed arms that Arthur definitely wasn’t ogling. Sweat pressed his loose tank top close to his skin, revealing the curve of pecs and abs just underneath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey yourself,” Arthur replied, looking up into Alfred’s bright blue eyes and knowing exactly what he had to do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looped his arm around Alfred’s arm and quickly tugged him into a stairwell. When the door shut behind them, he pressed Alfred against the wall and smashed their lips together, hot and demanding.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Alfred returned the kiss before he cupped his hand over Arthur’s mouth and pushed him away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“H-hey,” Alfred said, eyes slightly glazed over. “What’s gotten into you, babe? Not that I mind, but…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Meet me behind the bleachers in ten, love,” Arthur said, leaning in to give Alfred’s lower lip one last insistent nip before turning away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even without looking back, Arthur knew that Alfred’s face was flushed a deep red.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. You know I'm right here, don't you?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This takes place in the same Sun God AU as my usukustwiceperyear piece for the 2019.2 Opposites collection, where Alfred is a sun god and Arthur is an author.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For days, a bright light as warm as the sun had lingered in the periphery of Arthur’s vision, never too close and yet never too far. He’d written it off as a mere sun sprite, similar to the fairies who’d followed him around since childhood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And yet the light followed Arthur from sunset to sunrise each and every day, unusually persistent for a creature known for its fickle nature.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, he could see the bright light lingering outside of his apartment window, glow flickering like a miniature star, darting this way and that as if searching for something -- or someone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur sighed, closing his laptop and turning around, fingers pressed together in his lap. “You know I’m right here, don’t you? You can show yourself already.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As if it had awaited an invitation, the light darted through Arthur’s open window. The light materialized into a young, handsome man dressed in a flannel, denim shorts, and sandals. A stubborn cowlick stuck up from the man’s head, a marginal flaw on an otherwise perfectly formed body that Arthur definitely wasn’t admiring.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Name. Your name is…?” the young man asked, his voice light and soft.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Arthur,” Arthur answered, wetting his lips nervously. “And your name is?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The young man stepped forward, tracing the groove of Arthur’s lips with his finger.  Arthur swallowed, relaxing into the man’s touch as the warmth of an idyllic summer day spread through his body. What was this man, really?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ar...thur,” the man repeated. “Your name is Arthur. My name is Alfred.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alfred,” Arthur murmured. “Elf counsel. What a fitting name for you indeed -- if you are a sun sprite, that is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred smiled. “Humans have called me by many other names in the past. Ra, Apollo, Nanahuatzin, Belenus… But humans of this era would just call me the sun. And you, Arthur, can just call me Alfred.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Fingers in his...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The prompt for this one was "Alfred brings Arthur a glass of any beverage but he dips his fingers in the liquid"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I brought you some tea, love,” Arthur said. “Brewed with Gatorade, just the way you like it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, babe!” Alfred chirped, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s cheek. “You’re the best!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Alfred took the teacup from Arthur’s hands, he stuck his fingers into the tea with a grin. He then pressed his fingers to his lips and licked them in a half-assed attempt at seduction, splattering droplets of orange Gatorade all over his freshly pressed dress shirt in the process.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a few seconds, silence hung in the air.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then, England hissed: </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re fucking dead, mate.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. "Red Line" extra chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Someone in the usuknetwork Discord requested a drabble in the universe of "Red Line" where Alfred introduces pogo sticks to Arthur and Arthur is fascinated/confused by them. Anyway, I swear I'll write an actual update to "Red Line" within the next two months. Pinky promise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“A pogo stick, you said this is called?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Alfred confirmed, bouncing up and down using the strange metal tube. He leaned forward and bounced towards where Arthur stood on the other side of the courtyard, then leaned backward and bounced away. “I got these at the All-Mart in town! You bounce up and down on them like this! C’mon, you gotta try it for yourself!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur huffed. “This is as foreign to me as those odd plastic spinning tops in your pockets. I’m perfectly content keeping watch right here, thank you very much.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred snorted. “Suit yourself, dude. Not my fault that you’re an old fogey from the nineteenth century.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur felt his face grow red. He spluttered. “Why, you…!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Alfred bounced away with delighted shouts, Arthur sighed, crossed his arms, and smiled to himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In truth, while the Grail and his own faded memories of his national history did supply him with most of the twenty-first century knowledge necessary for this Grail War, he didn’t recall frivolous fads such as these “pogo sticks” and “fidget spinners'' Alfred was apparently so enamored with. And after seeing Alfred on a pogo stick in action, he could safely assess that that knowledge had been entirely unnecessary to his purpose as a Servant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But while these newfangled contraptions certainly wouldn’t have any use in battle, they put a smile on Alfred’s face and a spring in his step. That was a precious rarity that Arthur would protect no matter what.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hurt/Comfort (Sweet Devil)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for character death, gore, and general mindfuckery.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I never expected to find you here of all places, Arthur,” Alfred chuckled. “How the mighty have fallen.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Al...fred,” Arthur spat. His feathery wings feebly struggled against the dark thorns binding them. “You devil. You’ll pay for this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred flicked his barbed tail back and forth. “Bold words coming from someone who just fell into an Anti-Divinity trap. You’re at my mercy now, you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blood trickled past Arthur’s lips. “You… bastard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred pouted. “Aw, that hurts coming from you. I thought you’d appreciate seeing me again more than that. Didn’t you tell me once that you loved me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before Arthur could reply, Alfred snapped his fingers. Immediately, the dark thorns tying Arthur down tightened, eliciting a bloodcurdling scream from his lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now that’s a beautiful sound.” Alfred spread his lips wide, baring his fangs. “Aw, don’t cry like that. Come here, I’ll comfort you. That’s what you want, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred lowered himself down on his knees, gleefully watching as Arthur shrank away from him in fear. He dug his claws into Arthur’s pale shoulders and adjusted his frail body until his head rested firmly on Alfred’s lap. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything will be alright, Artie,” Alfred cooed. “I’m here now. Feel that? That’s my fingers stroking your hair. There, there. Never could get any of that up there in stupid ol’ heaven, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beneath Alfred’s deceptively gentle ministrations, Arthur’s body was stiff with fear and agony. Warm tears rolled down his grimy cheeks. Alfred wiped them away with his thumbs while wearing a radiant smile on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, there’s nothing to worry yourself about. In good time, you won’t feel anything, and then we’ll be together forever. Just close your eyes and it’ll all be over. Just like that. There we go. Don’t you love me now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The warmth was quickly fading from Arthur’s body. He did not respond.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred’s voice cracked. “Don’t you?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. All I Want For Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: USUK fluff, maybe something with a holiday?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Dude, you hang orange slices on Christmas trees?” Alfred exclaimed as he shoved another store-bought gingerbread cookie into his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arthur continued looping his handmade dried orange slice ornaments around the living room Christmas tree’s branches without so much as a backward glance at his husband. “Yes. And what of it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred chewed and swallowed his cookie. “Nothin’, it’s just weird.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weird is relative, love,” Arthur hummed. “Now, could you be a dear and add some more wood to the fireplace before it dies down?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alfred grunted his begrudging assent and got up from the sofa. As he padded over to the smoldering fireplace, he glanced at the empty space beneath the Christmas tree that Arthur was in the midst of decorating. He could already imagine fancy wrapped gifts sitting around the tree’s base all labeled “For: Alfred” in Arthur’s fancy schmancy cursive lettering.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Alfred returned to the couch, Arthur crossed his arms and turned around to face him. “No need to dance around the issue, dear. What do you want from me for Christmas? A PS5? A model P-40? Warhammer 40k?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred spread his arms. “Not to sound totally cheesy or anything, but all I want for Christmas is you, babe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arthur huffed. “I could give you that anytime you want, git.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite the red blush across Arthur’s features, he happily crawled into Alfred’s lap and cuddled him. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For anyone who wants news on my current ongoing fics: I haven't abandoned either Red Line or Tigers in the Sky! I might be able to update Tigers in the Sky within a month from now, but I can't make any promises. </p><p>I *am* currently working on a post-apocalyptic sci-fi Stucky fic for the "Not Another Stucky Big Bang", however. This fic will likely be 30k words or more (probably more) by the time I post it in December. After I finish writing it, I will put my all towards finishing both Tigers in the Sky and Red Line by the end of 2021. I already know what the endings will be for both fics, if that makes you feel better about my commitment to finishing my fics. </p><p>However, I also have college applications and online school to deal with for the rest of the year, so updates to my ongoing fics will likely be sparse until 2021 at the earliest. I hope you'll stick with me regardless.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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